Hogwarts is finished for the famous trio, except one friend will not be joining in the celebrations: Hermione Granger is being hunted by the Ministry for the attempted and near fatal murder of Harry Potter. Now she’s on the run, hunted by people she once

The early
morning was chill in the pre- dawn light. Shadows still hung darkly
around the room, not yet banished by the sun's rays.

But it was
the silence that enveloped Hermione the most. At this hour the house
was only beginning to stir. From her room in the East Wing she could
faintly hear the house elves, moving through the rooms and preparing
for the day. Lights would be turning on, the magic illuminating the
rooms in a dull glow until the sun was strong enough. Yet, even the
glow wouldn't be able to hide the misery and darkness of the rooms,
which were all decorated in eerily familiar dark shades.

Hermione
curled her legs under her in the large chair, gazing mindlessly out
the window. Unable to sleep she had thrust the heavy drapes back only
to find that it was still too early for her to make out any shapes
from the inky grey.

The only
other human life in the Manor was probably still fast asleep, she
mused. For that alone was probably why the place was coldly silent.

This
place, even at her favourite hour, still seemed desolate and
oppressive to her. The dark nights could only be filled with deeds of
the unsavoury so solace and quiet brought no real comfort. It was
like trying to find peace and serenity, while trying to sleep on a
bed of nails- the points had you constantly on guard, agitated and
awake when your body desperately craved a respite. It sought to grow
paranoia for the absence of sound only new grew malevolent
possibilities.

At
Hogwarts, dawn had always been bright and warm, filled with the new
day of adventures: adventures that she could face with her friends by
her side. There was never anything real to fear, just
frivolous teenage worries. Her misplaced concerns then seemed so
silly now. Oh sure, there had been monsters, dark magic and
dangerous adventures but it was always Harry that got himself in
immediate danger. They never wanted anything from her.

Hermione
sighed wearily and shifted her position: legs dangling over the
chair's arm while her head rested heavily on the side wing. She was
starting to feel claustrophobic but her limbs felt to lethargic to
move. Besides, she was a virtual prisoner in this room until her
esteemed warden decided to let her out. She had a painful curiosity
to search the rooms of the Manor but she believed Malfoy when he
warned her that she would just be getting herself killed. Gratingly,
she realised her curiosity only stemmed from the old habit of
conspiracy and protection of Harry. What she found would no longer
serve any purpose but to herself and even that wasn't an incentive
to get up out of the very comfy chair.

The
Mudblood of the famous Trio no longer had a reason to fight. What was
the point of fighting when there was nothing to fight for? Fight to
survive? Why survive when there was no one else to live for? Hermione
shrank backwards into the chair, she felt so selfish sitting
here using people for her own stupid gain. Malfoy was right, she
couldn't just lie down and stay there. But she would never forgive
herself if she didn't try. What would everyone think of what she
had become now? Harry and Ron's face flashed briefly, features
contorted into disgust and then sympathy. She squashed the vision
ruthlessly, not sure what was more painful to see.

She
flicked her wand, tracing a small treble clef in the air. "Gabriel,"
she whispered sadly. The familiar tune washed over her, doing nothing
ease her distress. Grinding her teeth together she forced herself to
listen to the lyrics and to focus on the melody of the notes.

I
can fly

But
I want his wings

She
was growing tired of the situation: of the running, hiding, lying,
pretending, hating. It was like the darkness she had been coupled
with was always growing, feeding sardonically off her misery and it
wouldn't be long till it won. It was getting harder to tell herself
she had to keep going, like a Dementor followed her every move. Her
stubbornness would only last so long.

I
can shine even in the darkness

But
I crave the light that he brings

Each
old memory cracked the fissure in her heart. Ever since that day she
found it a struggle to hold it together. Happy memories sought to
taunt her- what was can never be again. Painful memories sought to
show her the pain she had caused on those that would never love her
the same again. She never asked to be like this. She wanted to be
stronger so she didn't have to feel. She wondered how Harry had
kept it all together.

The
pain tore at her very soul until it felt like her body was falling
apart. And at some point she'd stop feeling the pain and loosen her
arms from around herself. She's stand on the verge of the void,
infinitely numb but too scared to dive forward.

Revel
in the songs that he sings

My
angel Gabriel

Then
something brighter would flare inside her, rushing heat through her
brain and she'd feel whole again and determined. She was alive, she
could fight and she wasn't about to give in. Yet, she was living on
a knife edge; so easily toppled one way…

No,
dwelling wasn't healthy. Hermione unwrapped around her arms from
her stomach and brushed the tears from her eyes. Even the ghost of
the pain was enough to send her spiraling. She wasn't strong
enough. Yet.

I
can love

But
I need his heart

She smiled sadly at the
lyrics. She knew what it was like to loose an angel. The song held
more for her than anyone would probably ever know. Her glazed eyes
stared back out the window. Light was just revealing the shapes of
the outside world. Had an eternity not passed? Maybe it was just
her, after all.

I
am strong even on my own

But
from him I never want to part

He's
been there since the very start

My
angel Gabriel

Suddenly, her mind cleared as the memories and
tears faded behind her barrier. The room seemed to snap into focus
and she felt the blood pound in her veins. She was alive, alert and
life wasn't to be wasted. She was so tired
of brooding on what was- she wanted a
relief so badly it burned through her body. These walls were too
small. She felt like a trapped animal and she began to panic
slightly. This feeling was irrational she told herself yet it was
wild and rolled off her in waves. A dull roar sounded in her ears as
fever wracked over she skin, heating her in the morning chill.

She
was still staring at the window when a thought tracked across her
mind. She smiled at the idea and rose jerkily from the chair.

Bless
the day he came to be

Angel's
wings carried him to me

Heavenly

A
new energy lifting her she unlatched the window. In another corner of
her mind she reached out for a different emotion- one that was free
and wild. Immediately, she felt her body shift in response and she
let herself become overtaken with the soothing pulse of her heart.
Closing her eyes, Hermione let the world fall away. She felt herself
shrinking, her body becoming unrecongisable as her blood pulsed
through new veins. It was a familiar change. Heat pulsed over her
skin; shrinking, tightening as it surged through her body, muscles
tightening and stretching.

There
was more than one way to be free. Even for a little while.

I
can fly

But
I want his wings

She
opened the world with new eyes. With one giant stroke she lifted
herself from the ground and dived out the window. The wind shifted
every feather on her body as she climbed the currents for a pocket of
calm. Her new muscles strained slightly when pitted against the wind
but it stood no chance.

I
can shine even in the darkness

But
I crave the light that he brings

Revel
in the songs that he sings

The
world quickly fell behind her but in the sky there was nothing to aim
for, only the pale shape of the moon. The wind currents changed,
pushing firmly against her left side. In response Hermione titled her
wings and rolled as the wind pushed her away. When it finally eased
she followed with a 360 roll, laughter erupting from her beak in the
form of a few short cries. The world righted itself and she turned to
look back. She let the air keep her up with gusts through her large
wings, like the wind whistling through the trees. The sensation of
being steady with nothing substantial under her was something she was
still yet to get used to, even if her instincts told her it was okay.

The Manor
was now the edge of her horizon, a black shape enveloped by the
forest. Hermione was uncertain exactly how far the security barriers
of the property reached but it wouldn't matter if she stayed in
this form. No amount of magic could distinguish the ordinary animal
from the extraordinary.

She angled
her body downwards towards the trees, heading for one of the larger,
sturdier branches. She landed gently, relishing for a moment the
feeling of her talons slicing into the thick limb.

The
morning was a world full of changing colours and sounds. Her keen
eyes were able to distinguish the differences in greens of one leaf,
the colours of bark. It was if the whole world was a changing dance
of colour and form, filled continually with echoing sounds and
murmurs; most of which she was able to pinpoint with relative
accuracy. A small grey blue caught in her left eye and she lazily
followed the small mouse as it frantically ran around the base of the
tree. The eagle in her screamed breakfast but her human half
had enough power to mentally retch on the idea and throw it out the
metaphorical window. She would…could never lower herself to feed in
this form; it was so barbaric she would probably end up throwing it
up later. It was amazing; Hermione marvelled silently as she let her
gaze trail deliberately away from the creature how strong the animal
instincts of the chosen form were. Sirius had never mentioned it and,
as far as she knew, Lupin's transformation completely overruled his
more intelligent senses. But when transforming into an animal one
acquired the same instincts; to kill, to run, to fly and to protect.
And on top of that they were so much stronger than anything she'd
experienced. Sure, emotions were from her human reasoning but no one
ever taught her how to fly or hunt. The eagle just seemed to know
how.

Sighing
mentally Hermione turned to look back up to the sky, now crested with
hues of pink and orange. She would have to head back, soon. It wasn't
her place to stay here and, if she believed in fate she could
conclude it was probably not her destiny to live a life as easy as
this. Really, animals had it so easy: be born, grow up, eat, sleep,
mate, die. No annoying hormones and ridiculous gossip, no homework,
no dangerous flying spells and definitely no lost friends to care
about. In a few minutes her world would be waking up. Hermione
entertained herself briefly with the idea of Malfoy with a bed head
before the beast half of her mind lost interest. Really, didn't
that boy ever not look immaculately groomed?

…Not
that his grooming habits were any of her concern she chastised
herself.

And now
she was just stalling. Before she found another point of exploration
Hermione took to the skies and angled towards the black smear on the
horizon. Her home. Her prison. Her only hope.

The muscle
under Hermoine's eye twitched. Before she could open her mouth to
retort Malfoy cut in smoothly, "I expect you to look at least
somewhat… no, in your case: perfectly presentable for Mother this
afternoon. No buts, Granger," he concluded.

Hermione
fumed as he continued to play with the handle of a cup a small house
elf had just placed before him. She wasn't stupid, damn it! Yet,
Malfoy continued treating her like she was five years old. Then
again, she would be horrified if he spoke to any small children in
such a manner. They would probably keel over. Serves him right if
they stunk up the whole stupid, expensive building.

But the
sound was enough to grab Malfoy's attention. Granger was tired; he
could see it in the slump of her shoulders, her head sagging to the
left and the dark circles under her eyes. Hadn't the woman ever
heard of beauty sleep?

He sat
back and took another appraisal. 'No sleep. Tired. Tired leads
to… crabby woman and no brain function. Which results in…Mistakes
being made. Mistakes mean death and death was…. Well, death. Not
good,' Draco thought. Granger needed a really sudden and hard
grip on reality. 'One doesn't fall asleep when they're
scared shitless,' reasoned Draco. Pleased to have solved one
possible dilemma for the day Draco increased the volume on his glare
from 'mild' to 'icy torture.' Just like he expected Granger's
head shoot right up.

"What?"
she snapped. She had been having a fine delusion until the static on
the back of her neck woke her up. She didn't have to look far to
detect the source of her aggravation, the blonde… well, The Blonde
was glaring at her from across the table.

Draco
thought quickly, he hadn't really planned past getting her
attention. Then a light bulb, well a metaphoric non-muggle light bulb
flicked on. "Your supposed dark magic capabilities… I need to
confirm if you have any skill whatsoever. Otherwise this charade is
over and Mother comes home to an empty house." Yes, now it seemed
completely obvious. How could he have let something so simple slip?
Draco gave himself a mental pat on the back. Two problems down and he
hadn't even left the breakfast table.

Hermione
for her part felt her fire go out with a big puff, leaving only a
cold smoke trailing in her veins. She had been expecting Malfoy to
broach the idea at some point. But now? The mere thought caused her
muscle to tighten and her palms to sweat. "Malfoy," she began,
"Do we have to do this now?" She wanted to cringe at the
desperate not in her voice.

Granger's
hands wouldn't stop playing with her damn empty bowl. Not that it
was distracting in anyway…Nope, definitely not. "No," he
drawled. "We do this now or I send you flying out the door."

Rising
fluidly from his chair Draco beckoned Hermione to follow him. This
couldn't be put off any longer, especially with all the inevitable
work on her 'talent' that would need to be done.

Hermione
was finding it difficult to move. Dark alleys, angry words and green
lights were filling her vision.

"Go
to hell, Harry," she hissed furiously, her wand resting dangerously
on the soft flesh of his throat.

She was
screaming but no sound burst from her mouth. "Why isn't he
running!?"

"Hermione?"
he whispered, emerald eyes full of hurt and disbelief. "What's
going-"

But
then she was drawing back, body shifting into a fighting position she
had no knowledge of. The fingers holding her wand were sweaty but the
grip was firm. She couldn't feel the chill of the night through the
heated adrenalin coursing through her veins.

"Crucio,"
she laughed. The sound was icy and void and it filled Hermione's
mind with crevasses that went on forever.

Harry
was dodging with practiced skill: rolling, sidestepping, twisting.
But the alley was small and she was only missing by centimetres. Some
part of her, the one horrified and powerless, couldn't deny that he
wasn't fighting back. It was getting harder to hold on to her
sanity; the dark magic trying to smother the last light she was
holding on to. She could feel the raw power pounding in her head with
each breath.

"Why?
Why aren't you fighting. Harry? I can hurt you…Damn it! Fight,
stupid! Please!" She was staring straight at him but even her
eyes refused to water. The curses were coming easier now, rolling off
her tongue. Why was it s easy?

Then
she was drawing a knife that wasn't hers from a cloak she never
owned. The blade glowed eerie and iridescent in the moonlight.

No…

She
blinked and the dining room snapped into focus, including Malfoy's
face inches from hers. "Wasn't he on the other side of the room?"
she pondered groggily.

Draco
peered curiously into her face, so close he could see himself
projected in her terrified eyes. The slight pulse in her neck
confirmed she was alive but she looked dead to the world. "Granger?"

Then the
colour flooded back into her face and her eyes sparked to life. Draco
caught up in the flecks of emeralds blazing in her unnatural eyes
didn't acknowledge her until…

Malfoy
shrugged nonchalantly and withdrew. But even as he began walking back
out the door he kept a firm eye on her movements. There were a
million things he could say at the moment: things that would
definitely cause her to wake up and fire up that temper. But, there
didn't seem the incentive at the moment. You didn't need to be a
genius to guess where her fears lay. He had certainly never inspired
that amount of terror in Hermione Granger. Potter… Draco fought the
urge to grind his teeth together. That bastard has whatever he gets
coming. And…yet, he was walking through muggle-trapped corridors
with the prick's best… well, ex best muggle friend in tow. The
fates were cruel sometimes.

After
checking again to make sure she wandered off and not from any
misplaced concern of her condition Draco paused in front of a pair or
double, black iron doors. Each panel on the door was embossed with a
scene of Malfoy history- gruesome and political.

"Well,
let's begin," he stated, watching in grim satisfaction as
Hermione's eyes widened while she took in the sight of the rooms.

"Oh
god…" Hermione concluded. However, since the thought didn't
seem powerful enough in her head she decided to voice her concerns,
"Shit."

Thank you
all for being so patent! I'm so sorry this took so long. School
work and writer's block just built up then I had a few weeks
overseas. But we are back on track now. My apologies for all the
mistakes. I read through an older section and felt like banging my
head on the table. If anyone knows someone to Beta for a major
procrastinator please let me know!

Up next-
some dark magic fun. Hopefully I'll settle into a writing pattern
soon. I still feel like I'm jumping around a bit and comments are
definitely helpful!

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.